


Traditions

by Oisín (gachahell)



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: Lancelot and Arthur have holiday sex, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Trans Male Character, and if you just look in the foreground you can see guine/morgan, bedi/arthur if you squint really hard at the bg, if you squint even harder you can see kay/lucan, that's it thats the story im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gachahell/pseuds/Ois%C3%ADn
Summary: Lancelot tries to convince Arthur that celebrating isn't always a sin. Arthur just wants some peace and quiet.





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays.
> 
> I guess important notes go here of: 
> 
> This story takes place a couple of years into Arthur's reign as high king. He's about 26-27 while Lancelot is 24.

Arthur had retired to his room early that evening, exhausted from the bishop's earlier scoldings. Despite being king, he still found himself at the mercy of the church and his advisers more than he would have liked. And given the bishop's hatred of the old ways, it became an even larger problem on a day like today, where half the population of his kingdom was out celebrating a non-Christian festival.

By the grace of God -- or whoever was looking out for him in the heavens -- Sir Bedivere had intervened before Arthur had lost his temper on the bishop. He wasn't sure he would have been able to explain to Merlin or Sir Ector why he'd thrown a snowball in the face of a holy man. Though a part of him knew Sir Kay would have greatly approved of his actions given the bishop's history of being a prick, and he took great comfort in that fact.

But all the same, he was now trapped. The bishop had aggressively pointed out the lack of conversion to Christianity since Arthur took the throne, citing his reluctantness to remove ancient -- pagan -- practices. In most cases, Arthur would have simply ignored this critique, knowing it to be invalid, but tonight was meant to be a festival. And his knights, who loved any excuse to throw a good party (save for Sir Lucan and Kay, who were left to clean up said party afterwards), would be sorely disappointed if he did not attend. However, if he did, the bishop would throw a larger fit; as much as Arthur didn't want to believe the man a threat, with the power of the church behind him he could easily stir trouble up if he was motivated enough. And that was best avoided, even if it meant skipping out on a party for once.

Not late into the night, there was a knock at the door. It could have been Kay, come to ask him what he wanted to do about the feast if he wasn't to attend, or perhaps Bedivere come to check up on him after the disastrous church visit. But much to Arthur's surprise, it was Sir Lancelot who awaited him on the other side of the door, decorated in soft, shimmering silks.

"Good evening, my king," Lancelot greeted, smiling as he glanced over his shoulder. Arthur thought he saw the fleeting shadow of his nephew, but Gawain had made no attempt to say hello. "Are you coming to attend the feast tonight with us?"

"I am forbidden to partake in such festivities at this time, Sir. But I am grateful for your invitation. Please, make sure you indulge yourself to your heart's desire tonight," Arthur said carefully, watching his words so as to not blame the bishop entirely for it. Though it was tempting to.

Lancelot's face was blank at first, his mind still processing the words, but as they registered he quickly narrowed his eyes at Arthur. As a representative of the Lady of the Lake and the other fair folk, he'd always been more sensitive to the church's interference. And as Arthur's close ally and friend, he was quick to defend his king from whatever trouble was started.

"You've been forbidden from feasting? For what purpose? Surely that man doesn't expect you to starve yourself simply because there is a festival ongoing," Lancelot argued, his temper growing hot. But Arthur glanced away and shrugged.

"I suppose there would be no harm in eating in my own room for the evening, lest I be caught at the feast and assumed to be taking part in the day's festivities." Arthur spared Lancelot another look, their eyes meeting for a second before Lancelot turned his back on him.

"I will speak with Sir Kay about bringing you something to eat. I can't imagine he'd be willing to let you skip a meal. Especially after he's gone through the trouble of already preparing it for you." 

"Just don't get caught. People are watching," Arthur half-teased, more truth to his words than he was comfortable with. But most people wouldn't dare question or follow Lancelot if he did bring back food. He'd only been here a short time and he'd already made a name for himself in King Arthur's court. Of the younger knights, it could easily be said he was one of the more famous, if not for his political importance than for his fighting prowess.

With Lancelot gone, the night grew more lonely. It was cold and snowing out, and despite whatever parties might have been going on inside or out, there was very little noise that made it up to Arthur's secluded room. Were Arthur more selfish, he might have called upon Bedivere simply for the company, but it was far too late for that now. And Arthur wouldn't have had the heart to tear the man away from his other friends, even if he would have come willing. So instead he stubbornly curled up beneath the furs on his bed and huffed, enjoying the dying light of all of the room's candles before nearly drifting off into sleep.

But just as he reached the edge, right before falling into a deep slumber, there was a knock at the door. At first he made an attempt to ignore it. He didn't want to be bothered throwing off his covers to go speak to someone now that he was more than half-asleep. But when he didn't answer the next round of knocks, the door flew open to reveal a concerned Lancelot.

Even in the dim light, Arthur could see the gills at the side of his neck flaring in panic, the bright red nearly looking like bloody gashes upon his pale skin. But once he saw that Arthur was unharmed, he calmed himself down and carried in a plate of food. There was a suspicious amount of apples upon the silver platter that hinted Gawain had some hand in this, but there were a number of other small pieces as well. Lancelot must have said something to Kay about the situation -- only Kay would have taken the time to set equal parts vegetable and meat aside for Arthur.

"Next time please answer. I thought something had happened to you," Lancelot scolded. Arthur should have apologized to him for the confusion, but merely blinked blankly at him instead as his stomach rumbled. A heavy silence fell between the both of them and Lancelot was the first to surrender, his shoulders slumping as he sighed and brought the plate to Arthur's bedside.

"Did I miss much?" Arthur inquired, reaching over to rip a piece from the chicken. 

"Only Sir Kay scolding the entire table and then Sir Lucan pulling him aside right afterwards to scold him for scolding them. Poor Sir Gareth seemed overly amused by that and laughed herself right off of her chair. Sir Agravaine's face could not have gone any redder once her wine cup fell atop his lap." He recounted the tale for his king, watching as his grey eyes sparkled with delight at the table's antics. They were hardly befitting of a group of esteemed knights such as themselves, but it wasn't terrible to find humor in it either.

"It seems there is still more order when I am gone than when I attend the feasts," Arthur noted, licking his fingers before staring at the vegetables on the plate. He had no desire to eat them; surely Kay wouldn't notice if he wasn't there watching him eat.

"I doubt that it is the case. We were just fortunate enough to have not had any trouble this evening. Though your sister did show up towards the end and demand someone entertain her in your absence." Lancelot bristled as he mentioned Morgan, he was perhaps one of the least fond of her, though he rarely made so known. "The poor queen offered to keep her company and has not been seen since they left the hall together."

"I can't imagine we'll see them until morning then," Arthur said sagely, his lips curving upwards into a smile as he laughed. "If tonight is to be a festival for everyone else, why not allow them to enjoy their time together? It is better to take the moment to relax than to stay on guard at all hours."

"And yet you cannot spare a moment to participate in the fun," Lancelot added accusingly. Arthur's face burned red at that and he coughed, willingly taking a bite of the chopped vegetables set aside. "Even in the privacy of your own room."

Arthur wasn't sure when Lancelot had gotten so close to him, but his face was frighteningly close now; Arthur could see himself reflected in his mismatched eyes. He wore less makeup upon his face now than usual, but he still bore the blue markings beneath his eyes all the same.

"Sir, you are a little close," Arthur teased, leaning backwards. But Lancelot followed him, nearly laying atop him. He was not light. Nor was he particularly comfortable.

"It is a festival, you know, my king. It would be a disgrace to allow you to spend the evening by yourself." Lancelot's voice dropped lower, his eyes half-lidded as he peered down at Arthur.

Arthur felt very much like a fish out of water (every bit of pun intended) trapped beneath Lancelot. But when he reached up to push him back, he found him very unwilling to move.

"If the church is watching, I don't want to get you in trouble with me," he warned, brushing aside strands of Lancelot's hair. His time living among the fair folk had left it more iridescent than plain black, and in the dimming candle light it shone a myriad of colors. "Someone will know you came to my room."

"Arthur," Lancelot sighed, "I've already gotten Sir Gawain to agree to vouching for your... purity." His nose crinkled at the word and he frowned. "And anyone who might question further than that would happily find that I went to your room to ensure you were in good health following your strange absence from dinner. Nothing impure or unchristian about it."

"I'm amazed you managed to get Sir Gawain on board with your lies," Arthur chuckled, wrapping his arms around Lancelot's neck and pulling him down further. He could feel Lancelot's breath upon his neck, it was cooler than a normal human's and he shivered each time Lancelot exhaled.

"He owes me a favor," Lancelot hummed, pressing his face further into Arthur's neck so that he could leave a line of kisses trailing from his shoulder to his jaw. "Most of your Round Table does."

"I'm going to have to start a rule that one man can only get so many favors from his fellow knights, lest you truly do end up with one from every knight at the table." Arthur tried to laugh, but instead Lancelot had him gasping just before kissing him hard.

The candles didn't last much longer, burning out as the night dragged on. Somewhere out in the snow, people celebrated their festival proper, but within the castle's walls Arthur and Lancelot, and many others, were busy making their own holiday traditions.


End file.
